


Through A Glass

by jessebee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessebee/pseuds/jessebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is not.  And then – he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through A Glass

 

 

 

 

He is not. And then – he is.

 

Gabriel sits bolt upright, gasping, eyes wide. It had _hurt_ , sweet Father but it had hurt, like nothing he'd ever known, the sword ripping into his true self, destroying the coherence of his energies, spilling him out in great fiery arcs across that filthy motel floor, but now –

 

Now there's just a phantom echo of pain, fading even as he breathes.

 

Why is he breathing?

 

He's nearly naked and in bed, a nice big one. The wine colored sheets are rumpled and very soft under his hands, and tossed in the way that happens when two people sleep there. Gabriel blinks and shakes his head, and looks around.

 

The room is one he's never seen before – has he? On the smallish side, the walls off-white with warm greens and golds, nightstands here, a chair over there with clothes thrown over it. The whole thing is alarmingly comfortable, and – Gabriel takes another slower, deeper breath. The air smells like sex, human sex, and – pancakes?

 

"Hey, lazyass! Breakfast! Last call!"

 

 

He's _moved_ almost before he's realized it, but it's exhausting and he doesn't know why. Gabriel hangs onto the doorframe and stares into the kitchen, at the jeans-covered ass and bare back of the really tall guy who's sliding pancakes onto a plate and turning to set it on the table. "Well, finally," Sam says, his expression exasperated and fond. "I know you can seriously sleep, but it's not like you to miss a breakfast that involves syrup."

 

Gabriel blinks. "But this isn't like me at all," he says faintly, and sways.

 

"Whoa, hey!" Sam's in front of him, big hands on Gabriel's arms. He smells fantastic, like pancake batter and warm human and sex. "You okay?"

 

"I'm – through the looking glass, right? This can't be Heaven, because this never – and we, angels, we don't – "

 

Sam gets him onto a chair and hunkers down in front of him, hands curved over Gabriel's knees. "Gabriel? What? Talk to me, love."

 

Love?

 

Gabriel looks at him, _into_ him, searching for the trick. But there's nothing here except Sam Winchester, human and himself, traced over with the familiar taste of claiming angelic energy. Very familiar, because somehow, impossibly, it's Gabriel's own. Gabriel swallows hard. "I died, Sam."

 

Sam nods. His eyes are warm. "You did. But you're here now, with me and Dean and Cas. Nightmare again?"

 

Nightmare? But he doesn't –

 

Then it doesn't matter what he doesn't, because Sam is pulling him off the chair and wrapping him up in long, strong arms, and fuck it all, Gabriel is keeping this. Whatever the hells this is, he's keeping it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from merrygentry on April 29th, 2010 07:20 pm (UTC)  
> SPN, Gabriel/Sam (+ any other pairings), he dies in the motel...and then wakes up despite all expectations in a bed in a house he apparently shares with Sam


End file.
